Desperate times call for unexpected loves (Melisha Tweedy x FemOC)

Chapter 9: I just want to know why

I remember few moments as tense as that meal. Quick, evasive, guilty glances. A happy Mr Tweedy as always, oblivious to what had happened just two hours before.

My head was too busy thinking about what what had happened meant, how to interpret and analyse it. I didn't even have a moment to feel guilty, to feel some fear when looking at that man in the face.

What I was sure of, was that it had not been an accident, a coincidence, something that can be interpreted in several ways. No, it wasn't something ambiguous. We had kissed and there was no other way to see it, it was impossible.

Why has it happened? What's going to happen now? Why do I feel like I wouldn't mind doing it again?

All those questions occupy my head as I lazily play with my slice of pie. Even that doesn't seem innocent to me. Apple, flour, betrayal and inability to think clearly.

I thought about all the times we had spent, about the fierce arguments we had, about how apparently bad we got along. There was no valid explanation in those memories either. She hated me, I was sure, and I hated her too, or so I thought just a few days ago.

Everything seemed the same, without changes beyond a little more confidence with the passage of time, some gestures of kindness, probably caused by the habit of seeing me every day without being able to avoid it.

It is true that since I met Melisha my world has inevitably revolved around her, asking myself again and again how unfortunate her life was to treat the people around her like this. Simple curiosity from my point of view.

My eyes looked at the table, avoiding contact with hers. Silence was the undisputed king of the room. There was nothing else, just an innocent and happy Mr Tweedy. At least the pie was to his liking. He didn't know what he was doing, he didn't know what had come of that delicacy that he liked so much.

"It's delicious..." He commented, closing his eyes pleasantly.

I should be happy since that credit was partly mine, but my hands were shaking and my face was unable to express anything.

What was she thinking? What was I thinking? Everything was blurred, confusing, strange. Her gaze avoided me, she did it shamelessly. She was ashamed, afraid, scared. What was what scared her so much? Did she think her husband was going to find out?

Each question raised a new one. It was a cycle that never ended. I would die to know what was going through her mind, what she thought just before leaning towards me, just before kissing me.

Because yes, it was her, that was for sure. The cold heartless woman was the one who moved first. Maybe it was a gesture of affection. No, it didn't sound even remotely possible. But that tenderness, that softness, those caresses that gave me chills didn't seem possible either. I had seen another side of her, one completely unknown. Maybe she made fun of me. She was trying to throw me off my feet so I would lose my mind. Congratulations, she has achieved it.

I also felt that need, that desire to love that those kisses hid. I asked myself what would have happened if the stopwatch didn't sound. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up just thinking about it.

But the worst thing was not wondering about her reasons. The worst thing was how I felt. Surely I must have felt deeply uncomfortable, upset, attacked. I shouldn't feel good, I shouldn't think about doing it again. That was wrong, that wasn't normal, I knew it, my body didn't. My body felt liberated, it felt curious and relaxed.

I have read enough. I have read thousands of different love stories, but none of them talked about the love that two women can feel. I was not ignorant. I knew that it could happen, but that it was not a good thing, that love could be blurred by a disorder or an illness. Nonsense in my opinion. I have never believed that loving meant being sick, that love can sometimes be something indecent.